


The Boy with the Bread

by flamesmcphan



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 13:20:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7509949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamesmcphan/pseuds/flamesmcphan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We all know what Katniss though of her games, but what did Peeta? This fanfic is from Peeta's POV as the plot remains exactly the same but we now see what was going on in Peeta's head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

I awake early on reaping day, even though last night's dreams kept me up for hours. I can't be the only one though because even now I can see my older brother Thom in the opposite bed, tossing and turning, muttering in his sleep. The nightmares always come before the reaping, because even though my family doesn't have to take any tesserae, there is always the shadow of fear, that maybe the name that is pulled out of the reaping ball, will be yours.

Shaking the dreadful thought out of my mind, I push off my thin covers and drag myself out of bed. Thom is still sleeping, so I got to our small grimy window that overlooks the town square, where later today, I will be forced to stand in a crowd full of terrified 12-16 year olds, while Effie Trinket, our eccentric representative from the capitol, picks out the names of which boy and girl are going to go to the Hunger Games to die. Die, because basically everyone from district 12 who goes to the Hunger Games dies. We have only had two victors, one of them long dead, there have been 74 Hunger Games so far, and she won near the start, and our only alive victor is addicted to alcohol and never really comes out of his home in the victor's village, except to buy more alcohol and for the dreaded reapings.

Suddenly, a movement in the square distracts me from my thoughts. It's Gale Hawthorne, a bag of berries and roots slung over his shoulder and 5 rabbits dangling from his belt. And next to him is... Katniss Everdeen. My heart skips a beat as I see her walk beside Gale, her shiny dark hair done in an elegant braid down her back, her gray eyes like a storm cloud, beautiful, yet deadly. She wears and old jacket, covered in stains, mud and a little bit of animal blood, but it still looks great on her. Her posture is strong and steady, her arms full of muscles. I know where they have been, in the woods, hunting.

What they don't know is that they are respected by everyone at school. Both of their fathers killed in the mine explosion, both of them still going strong. They both live in the Seam, and to keep their family alive, they have to venture in to the woods, and hunt. They have weapons out there, some say, hidden in logs and under rocks. I know that they are archers, because every time she brings my father game, it's always a clean shot, not a cut throat, just a hole through its head. No one but them goes in there, its too dangerous. But they always bring back game and trade well at the hob, our local black market. At school she is always left alone. Not because no one likes her, but because of her air of and superiority and the way that she seems to want to be alone, they are a little scared of her. The only one who confronts her is Madge. What an unlikely pair, the brave, poor hunter and the most well of girl in district twelve her father is mayor.

I watch them knock on the Mayor's house's door. Madge opens the door. She wears a very expensive with dress and a pink satin ribbon in her hair. On her dress there is pinned a gold pin. Real gold. I can't see the shape from my window, but I think it's a bird of some sort. They talk for some time. I see Gale's handsome face begin to mold into a frown. He begins to argue with Madge. Katniss separates them then hands Madge a small bag of strawberries. Madge in return hands Katniss a handful of coins. Madge closes the door and they leave. Gales expression is still stony, but Katniss says some words and he begins to smile. I turn away from the window and i go to sit on my bed. I can't help but have a crush on Katniss. I have since the very first day I saw her, her long hair in two braids, and a red checked dress on. She is so beautiful, her voice so phenomenal, her willing to survive so strong and admirable. But there is Gale.

He is quite popular at school, and he has had a few girlfriends, but everyone thinks that Katniss and he are going to get married. They are best friends after all, even though he is 2 years older than she is. He is handsome and strong, with gray eyes and dark hair just like Katniss, and everybody else from the Seam. Whereas I am blonde with blue eyes, and the most dangerous thing I do is get bread out of the oven at the bakery where we live. I do have a little muscle, but that's only from throwing big bags of flour around. I hate having this huge bonfire of jealousy inside of me, but I can't help it.

I look across at the opposite bed, where Thom is snoring away. I think about confiding in him, but I won't. Even though Thom is my brother, he is 18 while I am 16, and we have never been that close. My other brother, Jacob, is 21 and he's always down in the bakery, we've never really been that close either. If I told them they'd probably laugh at me.

Suddenly, Mother strides into the room. I instantly straiten my back. If mother saw me with any sign of weakness she'd yell. "The reaping is today" she says going through my drawers and pulling out my reaping outfit, my cleanest white shirt, black pants and some old brown leather shoes. "Get ready, we will not be late!" and with that she shakes up my brother Thom, throws him his clothes, and slams the door as she exits the room. Thom sits up and begins to groggily put on his clothes. He looks pretty much the same as me, except he inherited dad's warm brown eyes. I sigh, sit up and began to get dressed for the reaping.

Breakfast is a silent affair. We eat stale bread like we always do. Some people in the district are under the impression that since we own the bakery, we must be well fed on fresh warm bread, a delicacy in the districts. But no, we cannot afford to eat the fresh stuff, we can only eat the stuff that has gone stale, that no one will buy. We are well feed, but it can be depressing eating the same stale bread every day. Mother leaves early to go catch up with some other mothers from the town. When she has left, father hands out some pieces of roast squirrel, something that we are never allowed to eat when Mother is around. She considers it vermin. As soon as I see the squirrel, I know that father had been trading with Katniss and Gale. They're basically the only way any of us can get fresh meat. I chew mine slowly, letting the rare taste of juicy meat seep over my taste buds.

2 hours later I stand in the area marked “16 years male” like we are a type of animals that need marked cages, though that is pretty much the way the capitol thinks of us, though the real cages are labeled “districts”. I still feel a little ache of pain from where they took my blood. I stand next to my friends from school, Connor and Mavis. I look across to the opposite area, marked “16 years females”. Katniss stands at the front, her brown hair in her traditional braid, but wrapped around her head somehow, wearing a sky blue satin dress and her brown hunting boots. She looks gorgeous.

I turn my attention back to Connor and Mavis, who both look scared about the coming reaping. I try to lighten the mood. “I wonder what Effie will wear this year” I joke. That’s me, the jokester, the one that makes people smile. I actually do have quite a lot of friends at school because of this. Connor turns to me, a smile returning to his face. “Remember last year” he smiles. “Oh yes” says Mavis, joining the conversation “it was a bright green wig with a fake lizard in it!” I laugh, something I rarely do on reaping day. “That was ridiculous!” I agree.

Suddenly, Mayor Undersee, the Mayor of district 12, walks onto the stage and sits on 1 of the 3 chairs that stand at back of the stage. We fell into silence and the smiles soon left our faces. He is soon followed by Effie Trinket, who is this year wearing and oversize bubblegum pink wig, a spring green jumpsuit and her skin so powdered with white that she looks like a ghost, but she wouldn’t stand out in a capitol crowd, they all wear clothes that are seem absolutely mental to us. The third seat is still empty. That’s Haymitch’s spot. He must be in a drunken haze and asleep in an alleyway or something. Effie and Mayor Undersee look in concern at the empty seat. When the clock strikes 2, they seem to give up waiting and Mayor Undersee goes to the podium to make his speech, without Haymitch’s presence on the stage. The cameras that sit like dark vultures on the roofs of the square all turn to follow him

His speech is the exact boring story that we have to listen to every year. About the rebellion that the districts had against the capitol, because everyone was starving, overworked and dying. The rebels (the districts) lost and the Capitol won the war, so as punishment the districts have to compete in the Hunger Games every year. One boy and one girl from each district have to go to the capitol and fight to the death. The only rules are, kill or be killed. What they don’t include in the speech is that the days leading up to the Hunger Games are like a pageant. You dress up and are shown off in chariots, then you show off to other districts in training, then you have to show your special talent for killing or survival to the Gamemakers and they grade you on it, then you are dressed up and shown off at an interview, then they send you off into the arena for your probable death.

I zoned out from the monotonous speech, I had heard it many times before. Instead I watched Katniss. Her face was creased with worry. I wondered why, until I saw that her gaze lay on her younger sister Primrose, also known as Prim. Of course, this is Prim’s first year in the reaping, she must be worried. I know how much she loves Prim, sometimes you see her at the window of the bakery with Prim, looking at all of the decorated cakes. I had decorated them myself.

Suddenly, while Mayor Undersee was droning on about how if you win the games you get to live in the Victor’s Village and be showered with gifts, Haymitch stumbled onto the stage, yelling something that no one can decipher. He is drunk. Very drunk. The crowd responds with its token applause, but he is confused so he tries to give Effie a hug, and she only just manages to dodge it. The mayor looks distressed. Since every reaping is televised for all of Panem to see, district 12 is becoming even more of a joke.

The mayor tries to pull the attention away from the slumped form of Haymitch by introducing Effie Trinket, and with his queue, she jumps strait out of her chair and walks, as bubbly and eccentric as ever, to the podium to pick the names of the next tributes from district 12. I notice that her pink wig has shifted off center since her encounter with Haymitch. “Happy Hunger Games!” she says brightly “And may the odds be ever in your favor”. She says that every year, it’s her signature welcoming to the reaping. She goes on about how much she is delighted to be here, but everyone knows that she longs to be in a higher up district, like district 1 or 2, a career district, where a tribute from there wins almost every year. But now it’s time for the real reaping to begin.

“Ladies first!” says Effie, and she trots over to the reaping ball that holds the name of the girl tribute from district 12. She swirls her hand around in the ball for a while, leaving everyone in total suspense. Then she finally pulls out a paper slip and walks slowly back to the podium, where she opens up the piece of paper slowly and reads the name inside. “Primrose Everdeen” she says, her voice echoing across the square, loud and clear.

I can barely hold back the gasp of surprise that threatens to escape from my mouth. I quickly look at Katniss. Her gray eyes are wide in what is clearly shock, and she seems too stunned to even administer what is happening. I see Prim, her face as white as Effie’s, her hands clenched into tight fists, walk slowly through the crowd of 12 year old girls, who all part to let her pass. Suddenly Katniss catches sight of her, and as if she was jolted out of a daydream, she gasps and begins to shout out Prim’s name. “Prim, Prim” her voice full of strangled emotion. She runs to the stage, where Prim is just about to reach the stairs. “I volunteer” she yells desperately as she pushes Prim aside, “I volunteer as tribute”

Effie is muttering something about how she must ask for volunteers first but no one is listening to her, they are listening to the way that Prim is screaming hysterically, her arms wrapped tightly around Katniss. “No, Katniss! No! You can’t go!” I’m thinking the same thing as I see Gale rip Prim off Katniss and she heads up the stair, her posture even more stiff than usual.

Then Katniss walks slowly onto the stage, her face betraying no emotion. “Well bravo!” exclaims Effie, who is obviously pleased to a volunteer probably the first that district 12 has ever had. “That’s the spirit of the Games!” she gushes on. “What is your name?”

“Katniss Everdeen” Katniss says, still betraying no emotion. “Well, I bet my buttons that was your sister!” exclaims Effie, as bubbly as ever, “wouldn’t want her stealing all the glory, would we? Come on everybody; let’s give Katniss Everdeen a big round of applause!”

But no one does. The silence hangs in the air like fog. Then, slowly, everyone in the crowd, including me, slowly lifts their three middle fingers to their mouths and raises them at Katniss. Effie looks confused; she has no idea what it means. But I do. It means thanks, it means admiration, It means goodbye to someone you love. It is mainly used at funerals. I can see that Katniss is truly on the verge of crying, but then something happens that distracts her and everyone else in the square.

Haymitch seems to pick up on the sudden change in the crowd, and chooses this time to stagger across the stage, as if to congratulate Katniss. He throws his arms around her neck and her nose wrinkles in disgust. He must smell terrible. Then he shouts, his voice strong for someone who is so drunk, “look at her, look at this one!” All the cameras on the roofs turn on him. “Lots of…” he pauses, as if wondering what word would describe Katniss the best. “Spunk!” he says finally. “More than you!” he shouts at the crowd as he lets go of Katniss and starts toward the center of the stage. “More than you!” he repeats, and then points his finger towards the cameras that are perched on top of the roofs, which still have their lenses trained directly on his face. Is he so deep in his drunk haze that he might actually be addressing the Capitol? To taunt the Capitol is something that no one in any district dare do, because it is almost a direct ticket to becoming an Avox. An Avox is what all prisoners of the Capitol become, slaves with their tongues amputated, so that they can never speak, taste or swallow properly ever again.

Fortunately, before Haymitch can get himself into any more trouble, he loses his footing and falls of the stage, headfirst, to the ground, knocking himself unconscious. He is carried off on a stretcher. Mayor Undersee shakes his head sadly on the stage. Yet another reason why district 12 is the laughing stock of Panem.

I draw my thoughts back to the main issue that is troubling me. Katniss Everdeen, the girl I have been in love with since I was young, going to a place where she may die, and will definitely suffer! I was so shocked that I didn’t even realize Effie was doing the boys until I heard the sound of paper crinkling across the loud speaker as she unfolded the name of the boy tribute for the 75th annual Hunger Games. Then she said, her voice loud and clear, “Peeta Mellark”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I wrote this like last year when the Hunger Games was really big and I still love it so well yeah enjoy, feedback appreciated x

As I walk slowly to the stage, staring at my feet, I wait to see if anyone will volunteer. My brother, Thom, or maybe even Connor or Mavis, but no one does. Thom and I were never really that close, and you can’t expect too much of friends, friendships don’t stretch as far as volunteering to go to your probable death for them. I become aware of the fact that my rapid heartbeat is in my ears, loudly echoing across my whole body. My breathing is faster than usual too, my chest rising and falling so fast that I could almost feel the friction between it and my shirt. I look up at Katniss, and I can see the regret in her eyes. So she does remember.

When I saw her, when we were 11 years old and her father had just died. She was digging through the trash at the back of the house, the rain making her clothes stick to her skin, so that you could see how skinny she was, her ribs protruding so much that you could see then through her thin shirt. Anyone could see that she was starving, on the verge of death, yet Mother still yelled at her and chased her out of the yard. Katniss collapsed to the ground by a tree. She was going to die any second. So I did it. I dropped the 2 loaves of bread into the oven. When I pulled them out they were blackened, and Mother said that no one would buy them. Then she hit me hard across my face. It throbbed with agony, and I remember the way that the tears burned my eyes, though I dared not let them fall. If they did, Mother would call me a baby and send me to my room for the rest of the day, without supper.

Mother told me to take the bread out to the pigs, so I did, my cheek burning. When I walked out the door and into the rain, she looked up in terror, probably scared that it was mother back again, to hurt her too. But it was just me. I saw her peer at my cheek, which must have been bright pink from the blow that Mother inflicted upon me. Then, as though she noticed me staring, she turned to stare dejectedly at the ground. When I broke of the first loaf of bread in half and the warm, mouth-watering smell leached out into the cold air she looked up again, her eyes full of longing.

I chucked the first half to the pigs. But then, I tossed the other half to her, quickly succeeded by the second loaf. She snatched them up quickly, and after tucking them under her thin jacket she run away, towards the Seam. I got no thank you, but I knew that those loaves would mean the world to her.

The next day I had a large bruise on the side of my jaw. No one asked how it got there, but I think that they guessed. My mother does give off an angry vibe. When the bell rang for the end of school, I walked out into the courtyard, surrounded by my group of friends, and there she was. I didn’t realize that I was staring at her until she looked my way, and I quickly turned away. When I looked back she was staring at the ground, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. Then, for some strange reason, she opened her eyes wide in surprise. I followed her line of gaze and saw that she was staring at a dandelion, the first one that I had seen of the season. She darted forward and picked it, then ran back towards where her small house was. I didn’t know what she was doing, but I hoped it was helping her stay alive.

I know about owing people. In the Seam, they seem to think that if someone does something for you, that have to repay you, or they will always be in your debt. As I hold her gaze, I hope that she does not still think that she needs to owe me. Once we are in the arena, there can be no debts. As I step up the stairs and to where the male tribute always stands, the Mayor requests that I shake her hand. I do, and as I shake it, I give it a reassuring squeeze, hoping that she will understand that I am just as scared as she probably is. Wow, her gray eyes are even more beautiful up close, though through the wall that she is trying to put up against any emotion I can see a shadow of fear. There is no way that I can kill this girl.

After we listen to the anthem of Panem, we are placed into the custody of the Peacekeepers, the Capitol’s police in the districts. As the crowd files out of the square, and the relieved children that weren’t picked go home, the Peacekeepers march us to the Justice Building, and once inside we are separated and I am taken to room and left alone. It is a large room, with a thick carpet and velvet curtains and couches. I sit down on one of the couches. It’s so comforting that when I lie down in its soft arms, it almost calms me down. Not quite though.

First to visit is Mother, surprisingly. I would have thought that it would be Father; he doesn’t act as if I am a servant as Mother does. As if she sees the puzzlement in my eyes, she says, her voice as gruff as ever “Your Father went to get something from the bakery, goodness knows what.” “Oh” I say and I can almost feel the disappointment registering in my voice. She scowls at me, as if it is my fault. “He’s coming to say goodbye of course” she says. Of course, in Mothers mind I must be too incompetent to even figure out that simple fact. Me heading to my almost certain death has not changed her air of superiority over me in the slightest.

“You know what” she says, her face turning from a scowl to a look of confidence, “I think that district 12 might actually have a winner this year”. For a second, I think that she is actually being kind to me. But Mother isn’t the type for compliments, so I know that there must be something else that she is referring to. “What do you mean?” I query. “Well” says Mother, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world, “She’s a survivor, that girl” Mother does not even care enough about Katniss to have learnt her name, but she does seem to have knowledge of Katniss’s strength and ability to hunt.

It’s almost as if she has shot me with her words. I don’t stand a chance against Katniss, let alone any of the other competitors. I have always known that Mother is never a person that shows affection, but this is just too much. I open my mouth to let out a scathing reply, but fortunately for me, as if I had said anything I would have probably been dead before they could even chuck me into the arena; the Peacekeepers arrive and tell us that our time is up. Mother does not even give me a hug goodbye; all she does is give me a curt nod and then she strides out of the room, her blond hair streaming behind her.

The 2 peacekeepers glace at each other as in surprise, but then quickly return their faces to the empty expressions that they had resumed before. Then they walked out of the room in the stiff and official way that they had entered. I guess that they had never seen a visitor leave a tribute that they had come to visit without having to be dragged or pulled. I doubt that they had ever seen a visitor that was not in tears, inconsolable. I am barely holding back tears myself as I realize the horrible truth of it all. I am about to be taken to a place where my probable death would occur, and she could not care less. She could watch me bleed slowly to death in a pool of my own scarlet blood and not blink once. The only inconvenience to her would be that she had one less person to bake the bread. The tears still burn at the back of my eyeballs as my next visitor comes into the room.

"Dad" I say, my voice choked from the tears. I clear my throat loudly and try again. "Dad, I thought that you were not going come say goodbye" I stutter. He rushes forward and wraps his muscly arms around me. "Of course I came!" he exclaims "Don't let your cursed mother put bad ideas into your head". I widen my eyes in shock. Father has always been the kindest person I know, despite his buff appearance. And he is not foolish to contradict mother. Even to him, the male of the house, she is a dark force, not to be denied. Sometimes I wonder how he could bear being married to her. He pulls back from the embrace and seems to notice the shock administering on my face. A small smile drifts onto his lips then is quickly smothered by the mask of worry that is creasing his eyebrows and dimming the glint of laughter in his eyes. "You know that I can rebel against your mother" He sighs "Despite her being a mighty handful". I almost laugh, but it would seem so foreign in this room of thick white carpets that many tears have been spilt on, in this room of rich and expensive satin couches that so many previous tributes have sat on with their grieving families.

"Here" he says as he hands me a small brown paper bag "a goodbye gift from me". Curious, I accept the bag and open it. Inside are 10 soft chocolate chip cookies. I inhale deeply and the aroma of warm, chewy, freshly baked cookies fills my nose. I close my eyes and imagine the way that the sugary taste would spread over my tongue, the warm melted chocolate sweet and so, so different to the plain taste of the stale bread that I normally consumed. I have had chocolate or cookies, but I dream about them a lot. I look up at father in shock. We were never allowed sweets or cookies ourselves, they were for only rich customers. When I used to decorate the cookies with swirls of different colored icing, I would sometimes put a dab on my finger and lick it hungrily, always longing for the sweet taste that it gave. But if mother caught me she would almost explode with anger, her face turned bright red and her hands clenched. She would grab the large wooden spoon that was hidden I the cabinet in the kitchen and spank me with it hard, so hard that tears would be brought to my eyes and if she saw them she would spank me even harder. But it was worth it to have at least a small taste.

I am about to bring one of the delectable cookies to my mouth when I suddenly stop. There will be many other treats like this on the train and at the capitol, so why not use it for something else? I know what to do with it almost immediately. "Dad" I say as I bring the cookie slowly away from my mouth. "Yes son" he queries. "Take these to Katniss" I say, handing him back the bag. "tell her that you will take care of her sister, I need her to trust me". At first he looks at me in surprise, but then a smile creeps onto his face. "You love her don't you" he smiles "like I loved her mother". I nod slowly, my face burning with embarrassment. "I will take them to her" He promises. We exchange another hug and in my mind I with that we could stay like this forever, safe and loving. Suddenly the door swings open and the Peacekeepers walk in. "Your time is up" says one coldly in his monotone voice. Tears begin to slide down my father's face and he slowly stands and gives me one last hug. Seeing him cry is the last straw and I too begin to feel the warm salty tears slipping down my cheeks. Just before he walks out of the room with the peacekeepers in close pursuit, he turns to me and says, his voice strangled by tears "I love you son". "I love you too Dad!" I say but the peacekeepers shove him out the door and slam in my face before I can even finish the sentence. The tears are falling fast now. Did he hear what I said? That was my only chance to tell him and didn't even do it right. Maybe Mother is right, maybe I am a failure.

I sit down hard on the couch and bury my head in my calloused hands. Suddenly I hear the highly polished door to the room creak open and as I glance up I see Thom and Jacob walk sheepishly into the room into the room. I sit up and attempt to look like I wasn't just crying, but I can tell that my eyes and cheeks are still red by the sympathetic reactions on their faces. They sit down on the plush couch and gawk at the room like the tourists that occasionally visit the districts to see how much more lavish their homes are, no matter if they are considered "poor" in the Capitol. They often leave behind them a trail of glitter and feathers as the climb quickly back onto the train and whizz off to another district so that they can escape to dull, eerie atmosphere of district 12.

"I'm sorry" Thom blurts out suddenly. He looks so guilty and has tears in his eyes. "For what?" I query. Is he apologizing for all the times that he has teased me, bullied me, been just an annoying brother or is it something else? "I'm sorry that I didn't volunteer like the Katniss girl did" he stuttered, a tear escaping his deep brown eyes "I was just..." he let out a sob, interrupting his own words. Jacob reached out and solemnly patted him on the back, silently urging him to continue. "I was just" continued Thom as he managed to control his sobs " I was just so scared of dying, and I'm just not brave enough". He breaks down, his body shaking with sobs and his head in his hands. "It's okay!" I say reassuringly, patting him on the back. "We were never really that close and I can't expect you to sacrifice your life for me!". "That's what I mean!" he stammered "We were never close and know you're going to die!"

Suddenly he gasped, realizing what he had just said. "Sorry" he stammered "I didn't mean that you didn't have a chance, it's just, you know the hunger games". I nod knowingly. Suddenly a peacekeeper bursts into the room. "Your time is up" he says flatly. Thom rushes forward and hugs me, and as Jacob sticks out his rough hands for a handshake, I pull him into a hug. Then the peacekeeper pulls him off me and they are walked stiffly out of the door. I sit down on the couch again and cry.

I sit there for about 5 minutes before the peacekeepers come and take me out of the parliament building and into a small brown car with barely enough room for me, Katniss and Effie Trinket and her large wigs. The entire car ride I watch Katniss. Her face is strong, no tears and clear eyes as she stares resentfully at the trees passing by. What she is thinking, I wonder. I wish I could see if she even cared about me in any way. I don't care if it was as a friend, accomplice, ally, tribute, friend or boyfriend, as long as thought of me.

We arrive at the train station and the car is instantly surrounded by reporters, their cameras clicking, straining and pushing to get a good view of the tributes from district 12. They remind me of a swarm of flies covering a hunk of rotten meat. We climb out of the car and I glance of myself in the mirror at the front of the car and stopped in my tracks. My cheeks are bright pink and my eyes are swollen, watery and red. I'm a mess; it is obvious that I have been crying. How will I get sponsors if I look like a pathetic little baby? I step out of the car and the cameras instantly leave Katniss and focus on my. The flashes of light blind me as I walk towards the waiting train, trying to look confident. 

The train was long and sleek, made of a shiny silver metal. When we reach the doors of the train we have to stand and wave graciously at the cameras that gobble up our images. I glance at Katniss and I see that she is not smiling. She must appeal to the capitol if she wishes to get sponsors and win. As the train doors close behind us I wonder why I care about how many sponsors she gets. I should be thinking about how I can survive these games, not about how to help her win! 

Then I realise that the answer is simple. 

It is because I love her.


	3. Chapter 3

We are forced to stand by the entrance to the train as the cameras snap away at us, the flashing lights leaving me dazzled. I flash back to the last time i had cameras flash away near me apart from the reaping.

It was when the mine collapsed, crushing Katniss and Gale's fathers, along with many others. The capitols camera crews were rushed out to the scene on the bullet train, filming the clouds of ash that billowed from the mines entrance, the gory wounds of the few miners that crawled to safety and and the anxious fear stricken faces of the families that waited for their loved ones to emerge. And many were disappointed. 

I remember running to the mine, even though none of my family was in there. Katniss stood right at the front of the crowd, her arms wrapped tightly around Prim. Tears streamed down Prim’s rosy cheeks as she buried her face in katniss’s shirt. But Katniss didn't cry, she stood squarely with her feet firmly anchored to the ground and her arms wrapped tightly around Prim. She was only 11 yet showed almost no emotion, just strength. But in her eyes i could see her fear and the tears that threatened that threatened to spill over.

They waited for hours and hours, until there was only 1 survivor crawling from the mine every hour. And soon there was none at all. The capitol aired that footage the same night as the tragedy, making the accident seem minor, just another flaw in the dirty districts and almost taunted the families that had lost someone. You never saw katniss shed a tear, but you could see her begin to slowly get thinner and thinner, her cheeks sunken in and her eyes shadowed.

After the cameras have time to envelop our picture, me smiling and waving despite my clearly blotchy face and Katniss glaring straight into the lenses of the cameras, we are allowed inside. The train leaves the station immediately, though there is no jerk of shudder. Only the smooth glide of expensive capitol train. The train is so fast that for a second i think the world outside is blurred. But slowly as my eyes adjust i can see whats outside. I watch wistfully as district 12, the only home I have ever known, slips away. I doubt I will see it again. 

Haymitch grabs a cup of a alcohol, which smells sour and pungent. He pushes his greasy yellow hair clumsily out of his face before slurring something about a nap. He stumbles off down the vibrating corridor and collapses into a couch. So this is my mentor.

Effie shows me too my room, which is even fancier than the justice building. I have my own bedroom, dressing room and bathroom. Curious I turn on the shower. A stream of hot water pours over my hands. At the turn of a nozzle the stream changes from a gush to a trickle to a downpour. Buttons dispense shoots of different scented bubbles from a tap. I notice a button that reads “roses”. At home we had a small wild rose bush in the back garden. In my free time i loved to sketch its silky petals, and to smell its subtle understated sweet scent. I press the button and immediately a torrent of pink bubble pours from the tap. I notice a section named shampoo and conditioner. I trace the smooth silver buttons, each labelled with a different scent and property. At home I used to stare at the tiny, clear, un-labeled bottles of shampoo and conditioner at the small pharmacy in the town square. It was a luxury very few could afford, even in its less luxurious form. But in the capitol they could afford to send torrents of it down the drain.

Effie tells me to pick whatever I want to wear from the endless mahogany drawers of my private dressing room, but for me to be ready for dinner in an hour. The drawers slide open smoothly and soundlessly, unlike the squeaky drawers at home that need a rough tug to open. I pick out a soft sky blue button down shirt and grey pants. I exchange my old brown shoes for a pair of shiny black leather ones. They fit perfectly to my feet, as if they were custom made for me. I go into the bathroom and stare at myself in the polished mirror. My face has lost its blotchiness, but my skin burns. My eyes are underlined with shadows and my hair is a mess. I sigh and splash my face with ice cold water from the sink. I force a comb through my unruly hair and go back to my room. I sit heavily on the bed and stare out the fast moving window of the train, i see a strange massive body of water in the distance, district 4 maybe. They live next to the sea, something I've only ever heard of. Just today they must have also had their reaping as well, but their reapings are very different to ours. Volunteers are a common occurrence, kids starving for the fame and gore of the games. And with all the support and extra training they get, no wonder their so confident to volunteer. I shudder as i realise some of my biggest competition will come from that district. One of the three career districts. Then I shake my head. 

Competition, I sigh, makes it sound like I have a chance. 

My eyes begin to burn and my nose begins to twitch, signs that I'm about to cry. Suddenly Effie bursts into my room, her massive wig almost brushing the ceiling. “Supper is ready!” she trills, oblivious to my clearly pink eyes. she turns on her heels and begins to walk smartly down the hall, her high heels clacking against the polished wooden floor. I finally realise that I'm starving, my mind has been focused on other things. I get up and follow Effie into the lavish dinning room.

The room holds polished panelled walls, a chandelier cascading pristine gems and a large table topped with china plates and every food I could think of. A roast bird, maybe a chicken- which are a luxury no one in district 12 can afford- even the peacekeepers, sits proudly in the centre of the table. Its glazed with a golden sauce and lies on a bed of roast vegetables. The smells wafts into my nostrils and my mouth waters, but I refuse the urge and sit down in one of the plush red chairs. Effie murmurs something about getting katniss and prances of down the hall, her pink wig bobbing up and down as she does so.

I stare at the delicious foods decorating the table. All i can think about is shoving all of it into a bag and giving it to the people of district 12, who have so little. How ironic that we get to live in such a lavish and luxurious place before we enter the arena and face starvation, dehydration and death.

I hear the tick of Effie’s shoes before I see her. She strides into the room, Katniss in close pursuit. Katniss wears an olive green shirt and black trousers, which cling to her in just the right way to reveal her lean and fit figure. Her hair is wet, probably from a shower, and it floats around her shoulders. She wears no ghastly makeup like Effie, but she is a thousand times more beautiful. I see her stormy grey eyes flicker to the empty seat beside me. Does she want to sit next to me? 

I notice a glimmer of gold on her shirt. As I peer closer at it, I realise its a mockingjay, an arrow clasped in its beak. That was the one that Madge wore this morning, she must have given it to Katniss as a parting gift. The pin ties in perfectly with the threads of gold in her hair.

“Where’s Haymitch?” Effie asks brightly. 

“Last time I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap” I remember. 

“Well its been an exhausting day” says Effie. Anyone could tell that she was glad to be rid of Haymitch, especially after he embarrassed her at the reaping.

Katniss lowers herself gracefully into the seat beside me, and I feel my heart pound. Effie sits at he other side of the table, seeming perfectly comfortable in her large bubble skirt. An avox comes to deliver the first course, which is a delicious thick carrot soup. After that we are delivered in courses a green salad, lamb chops and mashed potatoes, cheese and fruit and a chocolate cake. Effie narrates every meal to us, as half of the delicious foods we are offered we have never seen or tasted. The food is so rich and so good, and I cant stop myself from gobbling it down. 

“At least you two have decent manners” Effie notes halfway through the main course “The pair last year were complete savages. Completely upset my digestion”. The kids last year were Eliza and Thore, two kids from the Seam. They had never had enough food in their life, and were painfully thin. When they were offered food, of course they didn't bother with being polite. They died one the first day of the games. 

I only know how to eat with a knife and fork because mother would beat we with the rolling pin if I ate messily. Once she broke my finger and Father had to bandage it with some of the fabric from a sack of fabric. It never quite healed properly, so now my ring finger is crooked. 

I notice that Katniss seems particularly upset with what Effie has said from the way her eyes narrow, and begins to eat with her finger and wipes her hands on the table cloth. I sigh inwardly. Katniss needs more people skills if she is too win the games and gain sponsors. She can't glare at every person in the capitol just because there were hardships in her life or she wont get any sponsors. Then I realise I'm doing it again. Thinking of ways to help her win, when really I should be doing that for myself. 

When the table was cleared and the meal was finished I felt my stomach churn and swell with all the rich food I had devoured. Katniss looked a little green too, but she had a stern look on her face like she was scolding herself for feeling sick. Effie however, looked perfectly fine, and she almost seemed a little hungry as she was picking grapes of a fruit bowl in the centre of the table.

Effie leads us into another compartment to watch a recap of the reapings. One tribute particularly sticks in my mind. Its a massive bulky boy, more a man, from district 11. Aria, district 11’s escort, reads his name as Thresh. It seems fitting for such a dangerous looking competitor. A scowl is permanently fixed to his face, and I can see the muscles pulsing beneath his ebony skin. He looks like he could kill the other tribute from his district, Rue, with his bare hands. Rue is a petit girl, the same age as rim, with fluffy chocolate hair. She looks like a bird, like she could be blown away by the breeze. She wont stand a chance.

Last of all they show District 12. I see Prim slowly stepping forward, and Katniss sprinting to the stage to take her place. I see myself, clearly in shock, push through the crowd of 16 year old boys and onto the stage. I look terrified, and i silently scold myself for appearing weak. That wont help me get any sponsors. They cut to the anthem and the program ends. 

Effie Trinket is upset by the state her bubblegum pink wig was in after him encounter with Haymitch. “Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. About televised behaviour”

Effie’s disgruntled state makes me laugh unexpectedly. “He was drunk,” I say “He’s drunk every year.”

“Every day” Katniss adds, smirking slightly. Are we joking together? Did I just make Katniss Everdeen smile?

“Yes” Effie hisses, her eyes narrowed, which I can now barely see through her green artificial lashes. “How odd that you find it amusing. You know your mentor is you lifeline to the world in the games. The one that advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!”

Just then, as if on cue, Haymitch staggers into the compartment, his hair a mess. “Did I miss dinner?” slurs Haymitch as he stumbles to the table, grabbing the shuddering walls for support. Then he vomits all over the expensive carpet and collapses into the mess.

“So laugh away!” says Effie. She hops daintily around the expanding pool of vomit and flees the room. 

I stand for a few moments, disgusted at the sight of Haymitch slipping in the puddle of his own vomit. The truth of what Effie has just said is finally administering in my brain. Haymitch could really be the difference between life or death in the arena, especially for 2 tributes from the least sponsored district. I look up and lock eyes with Katniss. Her grey eyes seem to say “If he’s our only hope, we might as well help him”. As if in a silent agreement, we simultaneously grab Haymitch by the arm and heave him from the pungent puddle.

“I trip?” Haymitch asks “Smells bad”. He wipes his hand across his nose, smearing it with yellow puke. The caring side of my kicks in almost instantly when I see his weakened state. 

“Let’s get you back to your room,” I say, “Clean you up a bit.”

We drag Haymitch down the shaking corridor and into a door with “mentor” inscribed in golden lettering on the door. We haul him into his bathroom, which is identical to mine. Being so close to Katniss, I barely notice the stench. I turn the shower on and warm water pours down on him like summer rain. 

I notice that Katniss seems reluctant to help fix Haymitch up, so I relieve her of her worry.

“It’s OK,” I tell her “I’ll take it from here.”

A look of relief administers onto her face. It’s quickly followed by a look of confusion, then a look of suspicion. 

“All right” she says “I can send one of the capitol people to help you”.

It would be the much easier option, but I would really prefer not to be stuck alone in a room with capitol servants aware of my eminent death, cleaning vomit of my hopeless mentor.

“No” I say “I don't want them”

Katniss nods and leaves the compartment. With a sigh I turn back to Haymitch who has begun to sing some song about a willow tree, his eyes closed and his mouth spread in a wide smile. With barely any cooperation from Haymitch, I peel of his clothes until all that remains is his red boxers, and he seems to have wet himself. I shove his sodden clothes down the laundry shoot. 

I grab an empty cup of the bathroom sink and fill it with Lavender scented bubbles. I pour the purple foam over his chest, and with a few more cups of the stuff i have covered most of his body. Not quite wanting to rub the stuff into his puke-ridden chest hair, I find a wash cloth and use that. Once the stuff is completely rubbed in pull the shower head from its holder and spray him down completely. 

I manage to pull him from the bath and wrap him in a towel like a baby. I lead him into the room and dry him off, before reluctantly changing his underwear. I tuck him into bed and he begins to snore straight away. I turn off the light and leave him to sleep before tomorrows hammering hangover.

At my room I slip on a pair of silk boxers and climb into bed. I try to sleep, but my mind is alive. What’s happening at home. Is mother realising her error in not loving me while she still could and sobbing alone with the shutters drawn, dinner left untouched on their plates? Or is she scolding the others for showing emotion about my departure and pounding out the dough for tomorrows bread? And then it hits me. While I really be missed? Mavis and Connor, my two best friends, didn't even visit me to say goodbye. My mother will certainly not miss me for anything but my extra hands around the bakery. Thom and Jacob have each other, and I never really bonded with either of them. There was no time for that under mothers strict regime. And Father, the only one that really cared, has Jacob and Thom. No one will truly care when I'm dead.

But Katniss, Katniss has Gale and Prim and Madge and her Mother, who rely on her for food, love and friendship. She deserves to live more than I do. If she dies then in turn Prim and her Mother will die too, Katniss being their main source of food. And everyone noticed when Katniss’s mother, beautiful and caring, lost herself when her husband died in the mine. Her eyes were sunken dark sockets, her face white and her arms skeletal. If Katniss died, she’d slip back into that, and Prim would be alone. And almost everyone in district 12 knows Katniss. Some buy from her, some just admire her for her courage. People only know me as the baker’s son.

And with all these facts and realisations floating around my brain all coming together like pieces of a puzzle I realise.

That I will do all I can so that Katniss survives the 74th annual Hunger Games 

And maybe,

just maybe,

If it comes down to me and her…

I might sacrifice myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well um yeah I hope you like this, I do even though its messy as fuck, comment what you think x


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